IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In memory of my grandfather George Harford Gould.
You fought valiantly through all 6 years of WW II from France, to Italy and North Africa, and although I never did have the chance to meet you, your courage, dedication and patriotism will always be an inspiration to me in whatever I do, military related or otherwise.
RIP Grandpa, I love you.